Of pains and gains
by Anatomy Melancholia
Summary: Josh's death changed everything. Two months later, still human, Mick calls Beth for help with an embarrassing problem. A phone call turns into lunch and the promise of more. AU post-Mortal Cure.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: CBS owns 'Moonlight.' I make nothing off this.

AN: The MickBeth intimacy on the show annoys me at the moment, so I'm moving back into my AU fantasy world!

This was written well before 'Fated to Pretend' showed, so it's nowhere near canon. Just a warning. :)

* * *

_No, scratch that_. Mick HATED being human. He thought of Coraline bleeding to death on his staircase and dismissed her summarily. The bitch deserved it for putting him through this. One lousy stake wound couldn't possibly have hurt this bad.

"Oh God," he groaned, slumping onto the cool tiles. Mick wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or pass out but he prayed that neither would happen. The last thing he wanted was the ignominy of being the first vampire to revert because he died from choking on his own vomit. And if he wasn't careful he was going to gash his head open from thumping it on the ground. _Who cares?_ Mick amended swiftly, _if it takes even a slight bit of the pain away, it'll be worth it._ His hands were clasped tight above his left hip, fingers digging into the flesh in an effort to still whatever was causing the pain.

Thank God for the bathroom on the first level. And Christ, there it was again, that burning that strung down his side and peeled away any control he might have had. He pulled himself upright again, trying to remember which side the appendix was on, and which side the liver. Maybe it was a kidney? He thought back frantically to the kidney punches he'd thrown and received over the years. _Yep, about right._ Followed immediately by the thought, _Oh my God, my kidneys are failing._ Eyes pinched, teeth clenched - the anguish was heart-breaking. He was reverting, one organ at a time, in a cold, porcelain box, and still the sweat beaded as he fought not to scream.

Mick had known indigestion was a bitch for about two months now. For a while, he lay around miserably, convinced it was the worst mortality had to offer on a regular basis. Not that that stopped him, of course; there was too much to taste and he was trying to pack fifty years of regrets and an eternity's supply of memories into a few short months. Antacids permanently featured on the revamped St John shopping list, right after steak, catch of the day, coffee and beer. Well that was all about to be replaced by a six-pack of someone's chemically preserved, well-used plasma. This reversion made heartburn feel like an orgasm. The agony radiated through his back, his side and _Oh fucking hell, Mary Mother of God_, now his groin as though someone was teasing the nerves with a pair of pliers.

Something wrenched inside him and Mick threw up. When the need to urinate slammed through him, he followed his body's urging blindly, recognising that it was expelling all lingering remnants of humanity in preparation.

The arm bracing him upright trembled. He must have been fighting it because all of a sudden he couldn't..._Jesus, it hurts so much._ The burning was spreading and it felt like glass shards travelling down... Quiet sobbing echoed back as he forced himself to weather the pain. _Maybe this is what childbirth feels like?_ The sobbing stopped moments later - it was hard to breathe and the more he inhaled, the more his body throbbed. He couldn't have drunk this much liquid - it just wasn't possible that he needed to pee so badly. And then he couldn't...and the pain started up.

Panic seized – what about the bloodlust? The bitch hadn't mentioned anything about the reverting. He was so blind; did he need his sire? For a second Mick felt the years strip away: he was standing in a kitchen watching the blood drip from his hand and he just wanted his mommy to kiss it better.

_Pigs urinate in fits and starts_, he thought wildly. _Maybe it's all the ham I ate. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow saying Oink._ And he steadied again but not before... Jesus, had he? No! Yes...oh my God. He wasn't going to look at the wet spot on the denim anymore. He'd wash the jeans tomorrow, no, he'd _burn_ them. Burn everything he couldn't have anymore.

The wrenching travelled like a knife tip and then suddenly...it was gone, and he was gasping in relief, feeling the cramps loosen and his knees shaking. _Oh God, if this was just the first wave..._

But the next morning and the morning after that he woke up blissfully human. He washed the jeans of course. Several times. And worried every day that the pains would start up again. By the third day he was tired of sitting at home and waiting for death to take him again. There had to be another explanation.

Unfortunately, there was just one being that could give him a human perspective, and they'd only spoken a handful of times in the last two months. It had been Josh's six week death anniversary the last time he'd called her. Beth had been polite but distant. He had been awkward. After all, the messages he left her the first two weeks had been so joyous he thought he might melt some of the ice shroud around her just by sheer infectious living. Maybe show her that life still had a lot to offer, and of course, he craved the simple pleasure of being around her the way he'd always dreamt of. Well that didn't work. And when it didn't, he realised that she tainted his happiness. So he left her to her mourning and he got on with building his life raft of experiences: the sun; the beach; golf in the daylight (Josef had almost spat in jealousy); the food; the clubs God, when was the last time, if ever, he'd been actually clubbing; sex – Jesus, women had learned a few things since the sexual revolution; reading in the park; sticky, oily sunscreen; jazz bars; ice cream...

He debated. This was embarrassing. Which guy wants to call the woman he's secretly in love with to tell her that he got really bad stomach cramps and then pissed himself... Mick rolled off the couch with a groan. There was always Josef. He stayed on the floor, groaning even louder. Josef would tell everyone and their mother before he got Mick the information. As it was he hated the very existence of the compound and he'd vowed to get payback for the golf thing.

_Stop being a fucking pussy_,_ St John and call her. Make it quick. Ask where to get the info. Wham, bam...shit, now I'm hard._ He considered calling one of the one-night stands, maybe one of the two-night stands? But it might get a bit iffy to start describing reverting issues with someone who doesn't know Vampires exist. And Mick just didn't want to admit to himself how badly he wanted to hear Beth's voice again.

He compromised with his pride and called her home phone. She was unlikely to be home during the day so he'd leave a message, she could call him back, and then his pride would be somewhat salvaged. Or she wouldn't call him back and what was new about that? And he'd revert, in horrible, screaming agony... _Oh please be in_.

Of course, it went to the answering machine.

"Hey Beth. It's Mick. I uh, didn't mean to call until I thought you were...I have a problem...and I was hoping someone -you, I mean- could help. I don't know much about human medical issues but I'd like to know where I can find out about something. Call me back if you might-"

"Mick."

Now he was supremely glad that he was already on the floor because lord knows it would have been a hard thump down.

"Beth." _Way to go! Monosyllables. Atta boy._ "I didn't realise you were home. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"No, you're not. I had a long night so I'm not on today."

She was smiling, he could hear it. He felt the answering grin break out on his face. "Well, lucky me."

"So, you're sick? Because you don't sound sick. When did this happen?"

_Idiot. Way to go reminding her of how long it's been._ "Sort of. Look, I just had some symptoms that came and went and I was trying to figure out if it was a human condition or - I thought I might have been reverting. I can't go to a doctor. Or to the hospital. And I don't know where else to get the information."

"What happened, Mick?" Beth bolted upright in her bed at the words 'doctor' and 'hospital.' He was ill? He was ill and there was nobody with him?

"Beth, you don't have to worry. I just need-"

"Just shut up and tell me."

Mick was pretty sure it was a good thing, maybe? She actually wanted to talk. Or she was just feeling sorry for him, and the thought made him bitter.

Beth listened to the silence on the other end and grimaced. Of course he didn't want to talk, she'd been stalling him for months. "Mick, if you don't want to tell me, I understand. Um, there might be some triage numbers that you can call and describe your condition to..."

"Strangers?" There was full-blown panic in his voice. He took a deep breath. "Fine. There was a lot of pain. I could barely stand or walk. I was nauseous and I threw up once. Most of the pain was centred around the left kidney, I think. It must have lasted for at twenty minutes but it felt like hours. I've never been in so much pain." He sounded like a sissypants. _God damn it._ "And I have a _high_ pain tolerance."

"Oh my God, did you take something? Are you still in pain?" Beth found herself hopping around the bedroom trying to fit into the other leg of her jeans and talk simultaneously.

"I'm fine now. It hasn't come back. But there was a wrenching feeling that I didn't understand. It felt like my body was dying one organ at a time."

_Well if anyone knows what death feels like, Mick does_, Beth thought fleetingly. The thought crashed into the memory of another dark-haired man, now six feet under and rotting. _Lots of people know about death. And that's not Mick's fault._

"So you think it could be reverting?"

"It doesn't make sense," Mick snapped in frustration. "Coraline never said anything about the reverting but the original Turning took 24 hours. And there's no pain till later. It doesn't make _sense_ that the pain would come and go over days."

"You want me to tell you it's something human, don't you?" she responded softly.

He sighed.

"Well, it could be a stomach bug like stomach flu? Or maybe you had an allergic reaction to something? Perhaps you injured your kidney doing something? There's more than one problem that fits those symptoms."

_Oh God. He was going to have to tell her._ "There is...one more thing..."

"Oh?" Beth stopped, hairbrush still tangled in her hair. "And what's that?"

"It makes you want to...pee," Mick finished quickly, almost mangling the word.

"Pee?" she echoed.

He debated hanging up right then and moving across the country. He could go grow peaches in Georgia or something. "Yes!" A little testily.

"And did you?"

Mick squirmed at the amusement in her voice. "It's not funny," he growled. "It was ridiculously painful and yes, what the fuck _else_ was I supposed to do? I thought I was reverting. I thought my body was getting rid of all traces of mortality!" He was shouting and waving his free arm around now, not that she could see him.

"I'm sorry," Beth stuttered. "Look, I'm sorry. It's not funny. I'm not laughing. You just sounded so embarrassed..."

He sniffed.

"Do you want to go to a doctor? I'll go with you, if you want," she said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice.

"NO!" Mick was yelling again. "I told you, I'm fine now. Still mortal. It just - it just went away and that bothers me because I don't know if it'll come back. And the next time I don't want bloodlust accompanying it."

"Did you check the symptoms online?"

"Eh?"

"Mick, _everything's_ online now. All you do is google the symptoms. You spend half your time on the internet!"

_Yeah, at Buzzwire or at that kinky-_. "Vampire, remember?" he prevaricated. "Our fatal illnesses are usually absence of head or presence of small pile of ashes. I guess searching through a huge list of mortal illnesses didn't rank high on my priority list."

There was no response.

"Beth," he all but bellowed.

"If you don't stop yelling, I'm hanging up!" she screeched back. Beth was only slightly mollified by his assenting grunt. _Big baby._ "I'm searching online." _Cancer? Infections. Haemorrhaging? No no no. Jesus, these were all so serious...and..oh!_

Mick was not prepared for the question.

"Do you like water?"

He stifled the urge to growl. "Yes." Short and sweet; he didn't want her to hang up.

"Good because I suggest you start drinking a lot of it. Not Coke, not beer, and steak only twice a week instead of the almost daily occurrence that I'm sure it is."

"Excuse me?" _Bluster your way out of this one, St John – not the beer!_

"Kidney stones, you dumb ox." Beth was laughing from sheer relief.

"Ex-CUSE me?"

"Kidney stones, Mick." Her tone was serious this time. "I don't know _what_ you've been doing to get kidney stones in two months but you are _clearly_ not taking care of yourself. What's in your fridge?"

"Ex-" Mick stopped, some part of his brain realising that the lemming-like repetition wasn't helping his pride. "Uh, meat, eggs, dessert...beer." A lot of beer, but she didn't need to know that. "Carrots?" _Veggies, right. Balanced diet and all that._

"What did you have for breakfast?"

The question shouldn't have upset him, but it did. It reminded him of too many solitary meals over the last few months. He didn't want to face that thought today - it wasn't Beth's fault that they had needed such different things over the last few months. It was time to go and leave her alone again.

"Beth, thank you. But I can take it from here." Quiet and respectful - he was almost back to Vampire Mick. "I'm sorry I yelled," he continued, "And I'm sorry I interrupted your day off. You asked for time and I wouldn't have called-"

She felt the tears rush in.

"-except Vampires don't really know much about mortal illnesses."

After a few seconds he tried again. "Beth?" The line was still open; he could hear that soft _futzing_ hum in the background.

"But you're not a Vampire right now. You're human, aren't you?"

She sounded broken-hearted and he had no idea why. He had no idea about anything anymore. "Yes. But I'm not sure how much-"

"What are you doing for lunch?" Beth asked, almost fiercely.

Mick felt his jaw clench. "Why?"

Awkward, ugly silence. Two months worth of silence, guilt, half-admissions, misunderstandings, lurking doubts.

"Nothing," Beth said finally. "Sorry, I guess I got carried away."

_Ah, fuck it, he was human still. For now. And she was finally talking._ "No doubt," he rejoined smoothly and crossed his legs, fingers and toes for luck. "Would you like to have lunch?"

"Oh yes, please!"

The words shot back so fast Mick half-thought he was hallucinating. _Oh yes? Please?_

"I mean..uh - this way at least I can make sure you eat properly," Beth was saying.

_St John charm scores again._ Mick laughed. "Nice catch. Now as to wine." His voice was rich and warm with sudden happiness. "Red or white?"

Beth looked over at the bright sunshine dancing outside her window. "White."

"Perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you to everyone who left me feedback on this. I know I said it was a one-shot, but it seems I lied. **rijane** finally pushed me into posting further chapters. So blame her.

--

"Everything I am is not what I was before."

He said it half-mockingly, but it sounded like a prophecy of the sort Beth imagined resounding in catacombs and cellars. Basement cults that spoke in riddles... but this was Mick St John, ex-for-the-moment-Vampire PI.

"Everything I _was_, I should say. Because now I'm somebody else again."

He was scaring her with those fixed eyes. "Everything you were, _what_?"

And that finally broke the spell. Mick laughed, raising his glass to her.

"To...?"

Beth gaped. She was never asked to propose toasts. It was funny because, while she spent all her time choosing words for an audience, it was silently agreed upon by friends and family that Beth was the not the best person when it came to heartfelt wishes.

She watched sunlight flashing off the crystal, spilling rainbows across the tablecloth. Crystal for lunch on the balcony with her. Crystal was out of her price-range. This was out of her league, she was out of her element. And that was a man sitting across from her. Beth was terrified.

Mick was beginning to feel slightly foolish with his glass hanging in the air. She was staring at him wide-eyed. Had he pushed too much? Was it too soon to celebrate anything? Oh god, had he just reminded her that two months ago they were lining up round the block to read condolences to her?

"Beth?"

"Uh, I'm not good with..." She raised the glass instinctively, flustered and stumbling over her thoughts. "I don't –"

"To brighter days then," Mick announced gently.

He was tanned, relaxed, smiling and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his nose. Something lurched inside her.

"And new memories," she suggested in return.

She'd forgotten how much she missed his eyebrows. Mick could have a whole conversation with just his face. Maybe she could get him to show her how.

But right now, the eyebrows were the last thing she was focused on. "Did you ever want to pierce your ears?" she asked, a glimmer of impishness sealing his fate. "Get a tattoo maybe?"

"Uh."The fork was halfway to his mouth, loaded with capers and salmon and funny white sauce. He really wanted to know what this highly-recommended funny white sauce tasted like. "No."

Beth watched him virtually inhale the mouthful. Eyes closed, hair slipping down over his forehead, even in the sunshine with the cure pounding through his veins in a two-step, he was Vampire. She wondered if he knew that he breathed in just before he bit; as though he were feeding both the man and the immortal. The fork slipped damply from between his lips; Beth reached for her glass and her nerves.

"Why?" Mick asked. She was nervous, but she was here. The rest didn't matter. As long as she stayed, he didn't care what he had to say to keep her with him.

Evidently he ate faster than she did. She was still spearing her morsel. "I don't know. Be a rebel, maybe? I was thinking of getting one."

"A tattoo?" On that skin. Bright colours flaring around an ankle or a bicep? Shoulder blade? Something that would remain hidden under a dress?

"Yeah, I thought it might be fun. A present to myself."

Mick looked out over L.A. "Beth, tattoos are permanent. This needs to be something you want on your body potentially for the rest of your life. I mean, in ten years you might be really sorry. You can get them removed, but it's expensive, it takes a while and it scars." Brilliant. He sounded exactly like a concerned parent. "It could be painful."

Beth rolled her eyes over the top of her wineglass, her lipstick printed lightly over the rim. "It's just a bunch of sharp needles sliding into your skin for a little while. And besides-" she waved her fork at him, "- I hear that after the first ten minutes it gets a lot better. Apparently, when something fine pierces through the skin, the endorphins kick in and the pain can turn to pleasure."

He remembered what that felt like, even as a human.

"Why are you blushing, Mick?" She noticed how fervently he was studying his plate. More eating. The man certainly loved food - that was clear.

He ignored her and concentrated on the tangy burst of fish, white sauce and citrus in his mouth. _And just where did she want this tattoo?_ His palms started to sweat.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Short update, apologies for that. But it's a scene in itself that I don't want to mess with.

--

"I'm not blushing." He'd managed to get his voice back under control. "But the sun does funny things to my skin. Apparently I must burn a bit while I tan."

Beth laughed. "You must relish every second of this."

The words were out of his mouth almost before she had finished. "Oh yes."

He met her eyes squarely and she felt her smile grow wistful and twisted. Two months. How do you make up for two whole months? She ran her fork lightly around the plate, manfully skewering another mouthful.

"So, how's the food?" Mick asked.

Oh God. He was serious. "Great!" No tell-tale heart to give away anything this time, she thought smugly. And corrected herself, no pesky vampire hearing to _pick up_ on the tell-tale heartbeat of an inveterate liar.

He nodded and watched as she started to chew.

"You don't have to eat them," Mick said, poker-faced. "The capers, I mean. You pick them out of everything. I know. You haven't eaten them since you were eight and you ate a jar full on a dare."

Beth swallowed abruptly and stared at him open-mouthed.

"_And_ then drank the brine," he finished, mouth twisting in disgust.

"Okay," she began, pointing her fork at him. "Just exactly _how_ stalkerish are you?"

"You wound me."

"Hmm...really? Because my mother and Josh are - were - the only two people who knew that story. The..."

"You're forgetting Kitty LeFavre whom you threw up all over, her brother Roger, whom you had an almighty crush on and kissed be-"

"What?!"

"Let me finish," Mick said, settling his fork down and starting to tick off on his fingers. "Kitty, Roger whom you kissed behind the schoolyard shed, that little shit Leslie who put you up to it in the first place, all the other kids, your Mom obviously since she had to clean you up and explain to all the other parents, all the other parents because they were given quite a show, and me."

"And..." He hesitated slightly, "As you say, Josh did know."

"You were there?"

"First and only birthday party I ever came to."

"But-"

Mick shook his head. "It was just for a few minutes. I was in the neighbourhood on a case. Seemed fortuitous. But you were throwing up so...and your mom was very distracted. I uh, made my apologies, sent my condolences and left."

She was staring at him with an impish glint in her eyes. "Unh huh. Sure. In _my_ neighbourhood during the _day_, on my _birthday_...such a coincidence, Mick."

He smiled around another forkful, refusing to rise to that particular bait.

"God," Beth continued, the hint of awe still in her voice. "It is so weird to hear details of your own life from someone else."

"Very."

"So," she began.

"So you don't have to eat the capers," he said pointedly.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"I know." He sighed. "But I don't want to talk about that."

"Oh really!" She kicked him under the table. "So now you have human superpowers? What was I going to say Magical Mr. Mistoffeles?"

"You were going to ask me what I brought."

When the fates aligned for them it was pure magic. She was pure magic, like a spell, the mortal kiss that brought him back from eternal sleep.

"We don't have flies," he said lightly, looking around. "But I'm sure there's a pigeon or two that might fit."

Beth closed her mouth sharply, trying to both glare and smile at the same time.

Pure magic.


	4. Chapter 4

Pure magic with a hefty dose of arsenic thrown in, if Mick was honest with himself.

But then again, he'd survived Coraline, not once but twice now. Three times if you superimposed her head on Lance's body.

_Oh God, I need another drink. Must burn the brain cells carrying that mental image._

Alcohol and sunlight do amazing things to the human body. Mick lounged back and stretched his legs out further, brushing against Beth's. She stopped goggling at him and sighed.

"If you thought it was bad when I was eight, you should've seen me first-semester freshman year. I once had to formally apologise to the school for throwing up into the geodes they were passing around in geology 101. Class was at 8:30am on a Monday morning. Monday morning." A coral nail rubbed at her nose ruefully. "Thank God for extra credit. I scraped by with a B."

He burst out laughing. "OK, that story I'd never heard before."

" Glad I have _some _secrets from you, Miss Cleo."

Mick looked at her quizzically. "A second ago I was a magical cat, now I'm a somewhat-Jamaican, female psychic?"

"You're just special," she replied wickedly.

Beth paused for a second. "You know, Mo and I might just find some common ground if I do a story on her. It's been...harder than expected...to cover...crime."

"You have good reason. Give it time."

"I know. I have been."

He filed the insight away as she leaned into a passing breeze.

Mick frowned. "Are you uncomfortable? Maybe we should move indoors." He shaded his eyes against the mid-day sun. "It's hot."

The sunlight felt like warmth and safety and it smelled of fish and sweat. Beth snuggled back into her chair. "Thank you for the weather update, and no, I'm fine! I love being out. It's...definitely unusual seeing you like this though- without the hat and the jacket and the sunglasses; like a turtle without its shell."

"A turtle?"

There went that eyebrow again. She took another swallow of wine, lips curving into a smile around the rim. "What's wrong with turtles? You should be glad I didn't think of snails or crabs or snakes or something."

"Right. Well, as intriguing as this line of conversation is..." He reached for the wine awkwardly, the sweating bottle sliding flush and cool against his palm.

"You're right. We were talking about presents."

_Damn._

"So?" She sounded like pigtails and loose milk teeth on Christmas morning.

Mick tried stalling. "It was a long time ago."

"Hey, _you_ brought it up."

She was right, he had.

"Nothing," he admitted finally.

She looked outraged. "You came to see me after four years, after stalking me, on my birthday, and didn't bring me _anything_?"

Mick shifted uncomfortably. "Beth, I-"

"A card?"

Why was she angry? She hadn't even remembered him. Shouldn't _he_ be the one disappointed – he was shut out whenever the human world took over her life again. Parents, toys, school, puberty, work, sleeping pills, mourning an ex- and very dead boyfriend...a vampire can only compete with so much.

"No. Nothing, Beth. It wasn't planned. I ran into your mother the week before and I- asked about you. You didn't remember me and she didn't seem to want you to. I think she was just grateful and touched that I hadn't forgotten. So she asked me to stop by."

Mick raised wary eyes to hers. "I guess I just wanted to see you again. See how you were. I didn't...check on you till after that." He'd caught a brief glimpse of golden braids heaving ruthlessly with the stink of brine, capers, hot dogs and a hundred other smells of effluvia in the air, and he'd suddenly been in love. The fierce, protective kind that wraps itself around your heart and holds it prisoner forever. He couldn't have loved this scrap of humanity that had cost him everything and then re-built him, more, than if she had been his own.

She'd pushed boundaries with him since she'd been four years old, first changing him as a vampire, then as a person, now as a man.

Beth swallowed tightly. Four, eight and twenty-seven - Mick had defined most of her life. "It's OK. I was just teasing." The words sounded hollow and a little sad.

Mick leaned forward, ankle brushing roughly against hers. "That was then and this is now. You know me now and I know you. You'll get birthday presents now...if you want them."

"_If_ I want them? How do you expect me to respond? If I say yes, I sound greedy, if I say no, I sound dismissive. But who turns down birthday presents? So, yes. Yes, even if the present is a card saying that you remembered."

Beth looked at the tiny pile of capers at the edge of her plate. "I know you're right," she said, surprising them both. "But I think I would've liked you at eight."

That was Mick's undoing.

The words fought his tongue to get out faster. "It's not that I didn't think of presents. It just wasn't appropriate for me to give you anything. But I did – once – find something that reminded me of you."

Beth bit her lips but the smile kept growing. "Well?"

She was heart-break waiting to happen. A kidney stone for his heart? A hidney-stone? Who said romance was dead? Josef was going to love that analogy.

"Oh no," he laughed. "I'll show you perhaps but I'm not going to tell you. It um, loses something in the translation."

"OK. So show me."

"It's not here. We have to take a short trip to where it is. It'll take a little while. Perhaps another time."

Her whole face was lit up so that it hurt to watch her. He just didn't understand. She had been devastated, he knew that. And two months had been torture. Two months of assuming she didn't care or didn't want to care anymore. Now she was sitting here and looking at him like he was the keeper to the promised land and he had no idea why. It was just a present for an eight year-old who hadn't been eight in nineteen years.

It mattered because it meant that _she_ mattered and that she always had. "What about tonight?"

Suddenly she had lots of time for him. Mick sat up, startled. "No. I can't tonight, sorry."

"Oh. Got a hot date?" It came out smoothly, the perfect blend of nonchalance and teasing.

_It should have been you every time these past months._ "Sort of." He matched her tone perfectly.

And there they were, at stalemate again.

It _hurt_.

"If you think Josef is hot." The blandness was gone, his voice was hurried and uneasy. Mick thought he knew how to play these games a little too well sometimes.

When she met his eyes all Beth could think was, _That wasn't fair_. He'd done that on purpose and with clinical precision.

"I'm sorry," Mick conceded as he watched her shrink into herself. "I shouldn't have said that."

And just like that, her shoulders eased. He was going to let her keep her veneer a little longer. He wasn't going to push her.

"It's none of my business." The wine chaser took all the sour notes away. "So, just a boy's night out?"

"Not exactly. He wants revenge for my ability to hit eighteen holes during the day."

"You're playing _golf_ tonight?" Beth didn't bother to keep the amazement out of her voice.

Mick laughed out loud. "Well yeah," he replied easily. "Vampires have this thing about the sun." He winked at her conspiratorially. "I can think of few things worse than sweating through eighteen holes in SPF 100 and a balaclava."

"But you can play in the sun now?"

Mick looked meaningfully at his empty plate. "Obviously. And Josef is pissed."

"Why?" Beth leaned forward intrigued.

"Business deals get done on the golf course and he's a night person. He offered to install artificial lighting but the Club isn't going for it. For Vamps it's not a big deal. But Josef can't play the humans. He had to put someone on the payroll specifically to go out and make deals with humans."

"That's insane."

"Something like that."

"Who?"

Mick grinned. "Currently? Me."

"You're kidding," was all that Beth managed.

The grin stretched into an all-out assault on her senses.

"Yes. Yes, I am. OK, sort of. I'm not on his payroll but occasionally I handle sensitive jobs for his clients. I schmooze, the client's happy, we all win. Except that Josef feels a bit left out.'

"Stop grinning. This isn't a toothpaste ad."

"Uh huh. OK." That lackadaisical tone as he looked out at the skyline. "Anyway, he says he's heard enough about my fun in the sun. He's going to play me Vampire style to remind me of how-" Mick broke off abruptly. "Of, um, some of the advantages...I mean..."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Humans are lame, I get it. I've said so myself."

"No." Mick wanted tell her everything he'd learned in two months.

"Your body," he started. "I mean, human bodies. They're amazing. I forgot how much pain you can put them through. I forgot how much humans carry with them at every moment of the day. You're hungry and sleepy and alert and day-dreaming all at the same time. While your legs are still sore from running on the beach the day before. And somehow you juggle through all that. My first day, I was in so much pain I just ate. I thought it would help. My mind thought it would help. When you're a vampire you feed and the pain goes away, you know? I finally had to take some pain meds to sleep because the sugar and the caffeine made me crazy. You can put insane things into your body and it turns it all into fuel. And what it's like to taste again." He didn't even know where to start. "Musso's still makes the best damn prime ribs you ever had. I guess they're responsible for the kidney stones in part."

There was a lump in her throat the size of a goose egg and he was still talking, hands moving quickly through the sultry air, eyes fixed on her intently.

You hate capers," he smiled. "I hate egg yolk. Can you imagine that? That runny yellow bit, I hate that. I never knew I hated that. I thought I loved that. But you make all these choices. There's so _much_. The world feels different. Even the breeze feels different. Smog, water, wood."

"No!" Beth gasped in mock-horror.

He reached across to Beth's hand, turning it over. "Your skin feels different. It's softer and more tangible; I'm not distracted by your heartbeat."

_And a steak for the lady._ He'd been this animated only once before and the chasm between that time and this yawned wickedly, reminding her... Deja vu prickled across Beth's spine frightening the shadows out of their corners. She pulled away abruptly to spear another mouthful.

"So, you're going to play Josef at night without Vampire eyesight? Isn't that a little unfair?"

"Well," Mick had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I got to pick the course. He doesn't know yet but I picked one with a lot of lights and some distinct advantages."

She waved her fork at him questioningly, mouth full of fish.

"Mini golf near the Fairground."

Beth managed to swallow most of the food before it sprayed the table.

She laughed until the tears ran out and the tingling from her swollen lungs ran all the way through her body. She laughed until she had used up all the weighted silence between them.

"But the noises...and the lights...oh God, all the kids! Oh, poor Josef."


	5. Chapter 5

She got up to leave before it was dark, laughingly protesting that she hadn't eaten so much in months, and nodding shyly when Mick said, "It was good to see you again."

There was an awkward moment at the door when she turned around one last time and surprised the desire in his eyes. He faltered under the shock of Beth's indrawn breath; he hadn't mean it, not really, not immediately. It was just there, underneath everything and surely, surely she could ignore it?

Mick rubbed at his mouth reflexively. Shit. Shit. Shit. Could it have gone any better? 'Beth, I wet myself from eating and drinking too much, but come have lunch with me and let me undress you mentally...' What woman could resist the Mick St John charm? Right? Right?

Beth was the first to speak. "Are you- what was _that_?"

"What?" Mick's mind seemed to have turned to molasses because the words refused to come.

"You were staring." She watched him with a puzzled frown growning between her eyebrows and an amused smile twitching at her mouth.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Lost in space. Miles away. You know, off with the fairies." Ouch. His masculinity winced for him.

The puzzled frown disappeared to be entirely replaced by amusement. It had been a while -strictly two months and change, memory nudged- since someone had looked at her like that. Beth watched him meet her eyes squarely and amusement shifted slightly. The conversation from lunch flowed back - 'Got a hot date tonight?' and the tangled words they had used to side-step the implications of their reactions. The desire had been there for a long time, for them both. Should she be shocked to see it? Yes, and no? Mick had been side-stepping the issue since New York. Beth had had other things to deal with. But it was...nice.

"Unh huh." Beth tapped her fingers against the door jamb lightly and then decided to let it go. "Good luck with your golf handicapping."

Mick laughed appreciatively. "Thanks. I'll uh, let you know how it turns out." A loud rapping noise from the table startled them both. His phone jumped like a spawning salmon, buzzing loudly.

Beth nodded and waved lightly as she walked down the hallway.

The door had shut behind her and the elevator was opening up before she trusted herself enough to steal another glance down the corridor. Human, but still smooth when he wanted to be. 'Let you know how it turns out' – she grinned widely. And what would that entail? For the first time in a long while, longer even than the grieving and the mourning, she was kind of looking forward to seeing what fate would throw her way. He was so different in so many ways. And she had worried about that, wondered how they'd get past it, planned all the conversations so she could ask questions. Instead they'd had lunch and laughed and she'd found out things she'd never planned on knowing. Maybe she could ask her questions next time. Like, what's it like to...

"-be human again?" Mick repeated. The phone crackled assent at his ear. "Man, I can't explain it."

Mick watched the street for her, wishing he still had his vampire eyesight. But it didn't matter, he sighed happily, he had seen everything he needed to in her confident strut towards the elevator. It had been touch and go at times, but the wary Beth had given way by degrees till it was almost as it always had been between them.

Guillermo sniffed heavily. "You gotta be careful still? I hear Kostan was pissed."

"It's fine." Mick snapped his wandering thoughts back. "We're uh, playing golf tonight."

"You're playing golf? At night? With a vampire? The grapevine is right - loco doesn't begin to cover it. You need your brain back and I need my best customer. C'mon, Mick. Two months of you not getting shot or stabbed and my demand is starting to give the finger to my supply. Lots of dead people going to waste."

"You know, shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I lost a bet and got the graveyard shift."

"And decided to call me?"

"I need a favour."

So that was it. Mick sighed. "Yeah?"

"Well, you've been hiding out, right? Some of the guys, they're not so sure it's true. The cure and all. I tried to explain but man, it doesn't make any sense to me either. There is no cure and yet you show up smelling like roast beef to a starving man, you know what I'm saying?"

"You want to parade me around the morgue so that people know you're not bullshitting this?"

"Not the morgue. Just...there's this chick-," Guillermo began, then stopped at the first sounds of mirth. "You know, I can _hear_ you laughing. Don't try holding the phone from your mouth; I can hear you! Come on man, you show up, I get laid tonight. Help a brother out?"

"So your immediate happiness rests on me?"

"You gonna turn eventually," Guillermo retorted. "'Less you plan on feeding fresh again, you're gonna need to be on my good side."

Mick was silent for a moment. "OK," he said finally. "What time's she getting in?"

"Ten."

"I'm meeting Josef before then. It needs to be earlier."

"How about nine? I think I can make that happen," Guillermo said hopefully.

"OK, nine. Just- no touching. OK? Tell her. And no cutting me to see if I bleed."

"Man, you're crazy if you think I'm gonna serve you up like some freshie appetizer. Like I said, you're gonna turn eventually and I like my balls where they are."

Mick burst out laughing. "Maybe you should stop betting. First the graveyard shift and now getting laid. Sounds like an addicton."

"Yeah yeah, like you've never done anything stupid for a bet?"

"I'll see you at nine." Mick conceded the point.

"Thanks."

After he hung up, Mick decided to ignore the dirty dishes and stretch out on the couch. He wondered what Beth smelled like now; he missed smelling her. She looked softer and he couldn't tell if it was because of the fuzzier eyesight or because the last two months had tempered her fire.

She'd somehow gone from the little terrified girl whose arms fit snugly around his neck to one whose white arms pulled him into the maelstrom of her world. He spent the afternoon thinking of little Beth and a locker that hadn't been opened in fifteen years.

Nine o'clock and he was facing a wide-eyed vampire, barely restrained confusion and desire on her face. He tried to focus the beating of his heart when she cocked her head and sniffed at him gently – had it always been this sexy around Coraline? For a second he was reminded of just why he'd fallen in the first place. But this was no time; the cure was burning its way through and he was gone with a swift nod and a half-smile to Guillermo. Lucky bastard.

Ten thirty and there was a brief moment of horror on Josef's face when they pulled up in front of Putt n' Play.

Josef trounced him at mini-golf and then made him pay, literally.

Mick handed over the two fifties, laughing ruefully at his own folly. "Alright, so maybe the eyesight and the heightened perception comes in useful sometimes."

Josef ignored him, smiling beatifically at the two copies of Ulysses S. Grant and nodded to the elements. "Candy from a baby never was so sweet."

They turned in their putters and faced the whizzing nightmare of the fairground across the car park.

"No,"Josef whispered, just slightly pale with horror.

"Funnel cakes, man. Rollercoasters. Shooting ranges." Mick's smile was so wide he looked like a little boy on Santa's knee.

"Food colouring, small children, sweating humans."

"Easily impressed girls..."

Josef looked a bit thoughtful at that. "You want me to go into that sea of unwashed humanity for the chance to throw a few balls at a clown's nose and impress jailbait?" He stared pityingly at Mick. "Have you seen my freshies, Mick?"

He was answered by a quick shrug. "Or we could make another bet," Mick said nonchalantly. "Shooting range," he continued in response to the slow smile creeping across Josef's face. "Gives me an advantage."

"You're on!" Josef clapped him on the back, propelling him forward. "So, buddy." He led Mick like a lamb to the slaughter, "you gonna tell me why you have Blondie's scent all over you?" Four hundred year old fangs flashed briefly in the neon lights.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update! Also, forgive me my wicked sense of humour. If you enjoy it, I'd love to hear from you. If you don't, well, leave any concrit you think I can use. Thanks!

--

Mick woke to the sour taste of funnel cakes and cheap wine. It couldn't have been much past eight o'clock; the hazy ringing of a hangover pounded in his ears and the scent of greasepaint hung heavy against his face. A few bleary seconds later his eyes sluggishly informed him that there was a clown on his chest. And that she was very, wonderfully, gloriously naked.

At least the ceiling looked familiar.A slow, tentative glance to the right met wood and glass head on, furry rug dominating the bottom half of his vision. He was stiff, still drunk, had spent the night on the floor by the looks of it, and now there was a female clown with cherry red lips and no clothes draped over him like a sonorously buzzing log. It was a nightmare, Mick decided and closed his throbbing eyes again.

He woke next when the afternoon sun played croquet with his eyeballs. It felt later, but later than what? He wasn't sure. Mick rolled on to his side, groaning slightly and winced at the band of angry bees that attacked the base of his skull. A giant stared down at him, nose wrinkled fretfully. No, not a giant, he amended, a woman. The flare of panic warred with the ache that had spread itself all over his body. He didn't remember a woman, he didn't remember much after the rollercoaster. There had been two girls. Blondes, he didn't remember a brunette. He remembered the taste of someone's tongue in his mouth before he pushed her away. And laughing as Josef fought himself out of a tangle of cheerleaders. There shouldn't be a woman in his house. Beth had been here. There shouldn't be the imprint of a body that wasn't Beth's in this house.

"Morning," she said softly. Then she moved out of sight and he found himself staring at the dust bunnies underneath his couch. Damn, he needed to clean. Especially if women, unwanted or not, were going to be parading themselves around his apartment.

"Here." The coffee belched steam, a trickle of lava dripping along the rim of the mug.

Mick forced his tongue into action. "Coffee," he murmured gratefully, attempting to sit up, and then brained himself on the edge of the coffee table. Stars rang out behind closed eyes and cool hands manhandled him, tugging him forward and then raising his head to look into her eyes. She was beautiful, he thought immediately. Clothed too. And then, owwwww. Pain exploded along the parts of his skull wedged under her fingers.

"Be still," she snapped. "You're going to need some ice."

"Coffee," he repeated, as firmly as he could. There was a strange taste along his tongue, sticky and metallic. "Please," he demanded louder, desperate for something human and strangely comforted by his reaction.

She laughed at that and handed him the mug. "Here. I'll get some ice. Try not to drown yourself."

Mick burned his tongue, but kept drinking till the soft glut of blood had vanished. The giant woman re-appeared with what looked like a sixpack dangling from her hand. Dear God, he thought with newfound clarity, she's trying to kill me!

He lifted himself carefully, moving onto the couch, and raised a tentative hand to his head. No, his vision was bleary but still good. There was a reason the clown-woman had fit comfortably on his chest. It was the same reason he'd thought she was a giant for one confused moment.

"I prefer height challenged or whatever lame-ass, politically correct bullshit people use today. And my name is Dolores. Laugh at either one of those things, and I'll remind you why being waist high is useful in a fight."

It wasn't the introduction Mick had expected.

Dolores shook her hair defiantly at the man's raised eyebrow. He had a name, she was sure of it. But somehow, she didn't remember much. There was a man that lingered on the edges of memory but for some reason she'd thought he was blonde. This one had dark hair and kind eyes. Attractive but...unattrative. There was no animal fire, not like the other. And he was clearly unused to drinking quite this much.

'Nice to meet you, Dolores," he said quietly and she shivered. Alright, so that's where the attraction was. He had a voice like sex on a stick.

"You have no ice?" she snapped, turning awkwardly towards the sixpack. Even slouched down, the top of his head was a good inch or three highers than hers. "Here, this is the coldest thing I could find. Figures." She sniffed.

Mick tried to supress a smile as he took the two bottles of beer from her and then winced as the cold burned alongside the pain.

He'd gone an alarming shade of white. "You might have concussion, but I don't think so," Dolores said.

Mick took a deep breath, trying to focus on the pain and put it aside. It still threw him, this ability his body had to elicit and endure agony. He wondered why it never hurt quite as much as a vampire and shied away from the thought. Pain was part of the package. He'd been given everything he ever wanted - questioning it was...unwise. Unwarranted.

"I think it's just a bump. And you have a nasty hangover."

He opened his eyes to look at the clown lady. She was older than he expected and he tried not to stare. She was also nervous. And...Mick froze, staring at her neck.

"I'm sorry," he opened carefully. "Are you OK?"

She seemed a bit startled, straightening her skirt and looking around the room. "Yes."

"No pain?" he pressed. "Nothing feel out of the ordinary?"

"Out of the ordinary?" she asked, brown eyes wide. "You mean besides waking up naked with you, not remembering your name and not having a fucking clue where I am? Not really."

He did laugh at that, mirth trailing off to a groan. "I'm Mick."

"Well, Mick. You should take something for that hangover. You got any pain meds?"

"Yeah. It's OK. I'll get it," he answered, rising slowly. There were lead weights in his legs. He sneaked another glance at the woman settling herself on his couch. Her feet dangled off the floor and he bit back the smile. "I'll be right back." And meandered his way to the bathroom and the blessed relief of a well-stocked medicine cabinet.


End file.
